


(I Can) Handle This

by eledhwenlin



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2013-01-18
Packaged: 2017-11-26 09:18:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eledhwenlin/pseuds/eledhwenlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A 'verse where people with superpowers have handlers who teach them how to control their powers. Spencer is Brendon's handler. This is a Day In the Life Of sort of story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(I Can) Handle This

**Author's Note:**

> Written for no_tags 2013. 
> 
> Dear OP, I hope this is somewhat close to what you wanted. I gave it my best. My heartfelt gratitude goes to inspiredlife for hand-holding and comments.
> 
> Warning: there's some hinted at emotional abuse.

Spencer groans as his alarm rings. He reaches out automatically to turn it off—just five more minutes, really, that's all he needs to be able to deal with today—but his alarm isn't there.

"I hate you," he mumbles into his pillow. There's no reaction, so he lifts his head and glares at Brendon.

"'Kay," Brendon mumbles. "Now get the fuck up and shut off your alarm."

Spencer glares at Brendon for a few more seconds, just because, and then he gets up because his alarm is set to Ke$ha and he knows if he doesn't stop it soon, he'll be humming "Die Young" under his breath all day long.

"I think I liked you more when you were sharing my feelings," Spencer says.

"Liar," Brendon says, stretching slowly. "You put way too much time into training me to control my empathy." He turns over and presses his face into his pillow. "Have a nice meeting."

Spencer grumbles, but the thing is, Brendon's right. They've come far in the last few years.

Spencer still hates mornings, though. The newspaper doesn't do anything to help his mood. There's another initiative that demands that "sups" shouldn't only have to register, but that they should be kept separate from the normal people. Spencer snorts. As if that had ever done anyone any good.

"The sups," initiative leader Wilson explained, "can do real harm with their so-called super powers. It is only right that we try to protect the normal people."

Spencer holds his mug crushingly tight. He hates the name "sups"—it's only used by people in a derogative sense, by those who think that superpowers are scary and that everyone who's not entirely normal should be drugged within one inch of their sanity to keep them down. As far as Spencer is concerned, well, he knows more people who've been hurt because of their superpower than those who've actually caused any mayhem.

Spencer pushes the newspaper away, then gets up and immediately throws it away. It will only upset Brendon and—

"What's up?" Brendon stands in the kitchen door, rubbing his eyes. "You were angry."

"I'm fine," Spencer says, but Brendon just rolls his eyes at him.

"You were emitting bright hot red waves," Brendon says. "You were absolutely furious."

"It was nothing," Spencer says, shaking his head. "Just something stupid."

Brendon cocks his head, squinting at Spencer. "You have to stop reading the newspaper," he says reasonably.

"I can't," Spencer says. "What else will I get upset about?"

"Idiot," Brendon says, but when he pulls Spencer in for a hug, he's warm and soft. Spencer feels the tingling on his skin that means that Brendon's _connecting_ with him, and he lets Brendon do his thing—he envelops Spencer with warmth. "This is how I feel about you," he whispers against Spencer, and Spencer can't help but smile.

"I love you, too," he says.

Brendon holds Spencer for a few minutes, long enough that Spencer forgets that the world doesn't only consist of the two of them.

"You'll be late," Brendon whispers.

Spencer lifts his head with effort to look at the clock and groans. "Fuck."

~~~***~~~

Spencer hates L.A. traffic. He also hates morning meetings. Seriously, Gerard was free to schedule their biweekly meeting at any time, and he chose 10a.m. simply to punish them all. Mikey swears up and down that he doesn't know. None of them are at their top form that early in the morning.

Spencer is late, but he's not the last person to arrive. Gerard smiles at him, anyway. The bastard has a large cup of coffee sitting next to him. Spencer clutches at his (average-sized, but still much too small) travel mug.

When Patrick comes in, looking half-asleep, Gerard stands up. "Okay, we're all here. I hope you're ready to give me all your status reports."

Spencer leans back while they start with Ray. Ray's always organised—he also has the biggest caseload, so he kind of has to be. Spencer listens with one ear. He's the resident expert on telepathy and empathy, but has no idea how to deal with any of the elemental superpowers. While they all have to teach their charges how to control their powers, none of Spencer's charges could physically hurt anyone.

As Frank recounts the story of the girl who just wanted to see how high she could fly, Spencer is suddenly really glad that so far none of his assignments have involved calling an ambulance. A broken leg is much better than a dead kid, though.

"Spencer?"

Spencer shifts into a more upright position. "Brendon's made a lot of progress in the last week in deflecting negative emotions."

"No spontaneous crying fits when you pass a cemetery anymore?" Gerard asks.

"No," Spencer says. "He hasn't done that for ages. But now he's able to let go of the emotion immediately."

Gerard writes down a note. Gerard's notebook is mostly filled with many doodles, with random notes jotted down wherever some space is left. As far as notebooks go, it's pretty badass. But Spencer's convinced that Gerard only keeps them because of the doodles, as there's no way to actually make sense of any of Gerard's notes. "So he's now what—at the stage of Lewis? 12 years or thereabouts?"

Spencer nods. "Yeah, although we're catching up faster now."

"Now imagine how Brendon's life would have turned out if his parents hadn't fucked him up so much," Frank throws in.

"He would be much sadder, because he wouldn't have met me," Spencer says. He's not in the mood to play _what if_ with Frank. He's asked himself that question too many times—what if Brendon's parents had let a trained handler work with him on his empathy? What if they hadn't taught Brendon to close himself off, feeding only of all the "happy" emotions around him? What if they had realised what they were doing before they turned Brendon into a manic mess? What if—

There's no use in any of those questions. Brendon's parents did only allow Brendon to be assessed by a professional handler once. When they didn't like the results, they decided to take on the work themselves despite having no training and not having any clue what they should do. Spencer's spent a full year just getting Brendon to the point where he accepted his gift. He's been there through tears and tantrums and utter desolation.

"Wow, someone's grumpy today," Frank says.

"Brendon's doing well," Spencer says curtly. Status reports, he reminds himself. "Lewis is doing as can be expected. Some of his classmates have already started to hit puberty, so he's under an onrush of complex emotions, but he's handling himself well. I've taught him several exercises in preparation for when he gets hits by hormones himself. Anna's turning eighteen next month, and moving away to college after the summer, so she wants to have some extra sessions this summer, but then I can take on a new case in September."

He normally doesn't rush through it so fast, but today he really doesn't want to be here. He always hates to lose an assignment, although Anna's case is a happy one. Two years ago she'd still been too afraid to even think of college, of trying to getting by on her own, and now she's already looking up counsellors in Philadelphia. It makes Spencer both proud and sad.

Frank opens his mouth, but then Ray not very stealthily kicks him, and Patrick starts with his reports.

Gerard keeps looking at Spencer, though, so he's not terribly surprised when Gerard calls his name after the meeting. "Do you have a minute?"

Spencer sighs. "Do I have a choice?" He follows Gerard silently and plops down into the chair opposite Gerard's desk.

"I just wanted to remind you of the hearing at the Board of Handlers next week," Gerard says. "Pete wants to have a meeting with us beforehand for the debriefing."

"Of course," Spencer says. Since Anna told him that she got accepted in Philadelphia, Spencer's forgotten about anything else. "I hate that they can make me do this."

Gerard makes his commiserating face. "It's a thing of accountability," he says. "It's not like they want to forbid you to keep seeing Brendon. They just need to make sure everything's aboveboard. Especially given the, um, circumstances."

Spencer rubs his eyes. "You mean Brendon's parents threatening to sue the hell out of us since we're obviously fucking with Brendon's head." It makes Spencer so angry, that Brendon's parents get to accuse him of being bad for Brendon and he has to go and actually answer an inquiry. When he reported back to Gerard after that first meeting with Brendon, they had been ignored when they told the Board about the abuse Brendon suffered at the hands of his parents. But as soon as Brendon told them that he was in love with Spencer, his parents raised hell to get Spencer off Brendon's case.

So far Spencer's good record and his excellent progress with Brendon, who'd been reassessed by a neutral handler back when Spencer first started working with Brendon and then at the start of the inquiry, have made sure he was in no danger of being fired. Pete was making sure of that. (Spencer owes Pete a really fucking awesome birthday present, for being an awesome lawyer and being a good friend.)

"Pete says you shouldn't be worried," Gerard says. "You have a good case. Everyone's going to testify in your favour, should it come to a trial, but chances are that the Board stops the inquiry right then before it goes to court."

"I know," Spencer says. "It still sucks, though. They wouldn't have cared if I was a girl."

Gerard gives him another of those kind looks, that make Spencer feel like Gerard knows exactly what Spencer's thinking. "You're probably right," Gerard says.

There's nothing further to say. "I'm having lunch with Ryan in an hour," Spencer says. "How's Monday afternoon for the meeting with Pete?"

"I'll arrange it," Gerard says. "Tell Ryan I said hi."

"He probably already knows."

"Probably." Gerard grins.

~~~***~~~

Ryan's already waiting for Spencer.

_Hi._

Spencer raises an eyebrow at Ryan while he sits down. _I told you not to do that._

Ryan shrugs. _I was talking all morning._

Spencer opens his mouth to start Lecture #1 (Just because you have superpowers, doesn't mean you should use them all the time) and Lecture #2 (Communication Is Key), but then he shakes his head and picks up the menu. Ryan knows all of that, and for once Spencer's not in the mood to be Superpowers Handler Extraordinaire. So he just lets it be.

_Wow. I could see you gearing up for a speech and then you just stopped. What happened?_

Spencer shrugs. He's determined not to let the hearing spoil his entire day and—

_Ah, the hearing. It's next week._

Sometimes having a telepath for a best friend sucks. Sometimes it's awesome, like when Brent dumped Spencer and he was such a mess and Ryan just _knew_. Recently Brendon and Ryan have taken to ganging up on Spencer, though, all _we **know** something's wrong, tell us_. He shouldn't ever have let them meet.

"I'm fine," Spencer says.

_Sure, you are. Do I need to remind me that I can see all your worries?_

_Stop reading my mind_ , Spencer thinks.

The waiter turns up, but before Spencer can even open his mouth, Ryan leans forward. "He's having a large coke and the BBQ burger, I'm having a still water and the veggie wrap."

Spencer stares after the waiter. He still remembers a time when he had to order for Ryan because Ryan wasn't willing to speak to the girl at the counter of MacDonalds.

"Will you now tell me?" Ryan says.

"I thought you already knew all about my worries," Spencer snaps back. Now that he doesn't even have the excuse of reading his menu, he doesn't know what to do with his fingers.

Ryan's quiet for a moment. "If Gerard and Pete think you are going to be fine, then why don't you believe them?"

"I do," Spencer says. "I'm just pissed off by the whole thing."

Ryan just looks at Spencer. He props up his chin on his hand and waits. Spencer can feel him around the edges of his consciousness—for some reason Ryan feels like strawberry ice cream in his mind. It's comforting, although for a moment Spencer wishes that Ryan wouldn't make him spell everything out.

Spencer drums his fingers on the tabletop and looks up just in time to see Ryan's quiet little smile. "And to think that you used to yell at me for relying on my powers to communicate and not talking enough."

That startles a laugh out of Spencer. "It's different when _I_ don't want to talk."

They're interrupted by their food arriving.

"Tell me about your job while we eat, and then I'll bare my soul to you," Spencer says.

"You just want to drown yourself in barbecue sauce and roasted onions," Ryan says.

"You know me too well."

Ryan grins. But he does tell Spencer about the new accountant they just hired, a cute blond girl named Greta. There's this on-going battle between one of the graphic designers, Bob, and one of the sales people, a guy who calls himself Cash, to win Greta's favour. In the meantime, Greta's going to lunch with Ryan.

Spencer grins into his fries. He gives it a month before Greta's made her way into Ryan's bed. She sounds like she can stand her own against him. "So when do I get to meet her?"

"Soon," Ryan says. "But only after your hearing, I don't want you to scare her away with your bad attitude."

"Haha," Spencer says, but it comes out weak.

"So they didn't withdraw their accusations."

"No." Spencer plays with his left-over fries. "Kara tried to talk them out of it, but they just wouldn't listen."

"At least Bren's siblings are still talking to you," Ryan points out.

It's a good sign, Spencer knows. But it still grates on his nerves. "I don't get why they're so stubborn."

"They would have to admit to having made mistakes," Ryan says. "Nobody likes that."

"But they fucked up," Spencer says. It's the one thing his thoughts keep circling around. "They messed Brendon up by refusing to let him learn how to control his powers properly. They messed Brendon up so badly that the only way to control him was to drug him out of his mind, and I spent the last two years fixing that. And they're lashing out at _me_ , not at Brendon."

"It's unfair," Ryan says. "It sucks. But no one actually believes that Brendon's doing some sort of weird Stockholm Syndrome shit where he believes he loves you because you've brainwashed him."

"I just wish it were already over." Spencer rubs his eyes.

"Next week," Ryan reminds.

Next Tuesday can't arrive soon enough, Spencer thinks.

~~~***~~~

Brendon's sitting on the living room floor and playing with Bogart. "We still on for this afternoon?," he asks after Spencer's kissed him hello. "You look tired."

Spencer collapses on the couch. "Yeah, we are," he says. He doesn't really want to go through another tough training session with Brendon, but it's his goddamn job, the one Brendon's parents are accusing him of not doing, so Spencer feels honour-bound to go and hang out in the fucking cemetery.

He closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. When he hears Brendon get up and walk to him, he's not surprised when Brendon climbs over Spencer to push into the tiny space between Spencer and the back of their couch. "You said it was important that we did these things regularly," Brendon whispers.

"You're the one who came to cuddle with me," Spencer says. "Also what's with everyone quoting back my own words at me today?"

"You give good advice," Brendon says. He kisses Spencer softly. Then he pushes Spencer off the couch to land in a heap on the ground.

"Fuck you!"

Brendon leaps up laughing. "Come on, crankypants. We have negative emotions to fight."

Despite his initial bravado, Brendon gets quiet when they approach the cemetery. Spencer chooses a different one each time—it's important that Brendon learns to deal with these emotions in ever-changing circumstances. If they spend too much time at the same cemetery, Brendon will only learn to deal with that particular place. It's much harder and takes longer to manifest, but this approach has given the best results.

"Ready?" Spencer asks softly when he's parked their car.

Brendon nods. "It's just—there's a sadness here that never leaves. It's soaked into the environment. Even this parking lot is full of grief."

Spencer reaches for Brendon's hand and gives it a squeeze. "Let's go."

The first time they went to a cemetery, it felt weird to simply walk around and look at the graves of strangers. But at the time Brendon had been busy not breaking into tears simply from being there, so Spencer hadn't had much time to worry about being inconspicuous. If there's one thing he's learned in his time as a handler, it's that the harder you try to be inconspicuous, the more people will actually notice you.

So it's strange, but Spencer's come to appreciate that a lot of cemeteries are actually sort of pretty.

Next to him Brendon's taking a deep breath and rolling his shoulders, doing the exercises Spencer taught him to calm himself down.

They walk slowly, letting the atmosphere take effect. Sometimes, when they pass a particular grave, Brendon's breath hitches and once or twice his eyes tear up, but he simply squeezes Spencer's hand tightly. "His entire family came to mourn him," he whispers once. "Kids, grandkids and even great-grandkids. They all loved him very much."

Another time, "she died surrounded by her husband and her friends," when they pass the grave of a young woman.

They walk once along the entire length of the cemetery. There's a small chapel and they sit down for a moment, when Brendon holds Spencer's hand so tightly it hurts and his legs seem dangerously shaky.

"Let them go," Spencer says softly. "You're not them—these are not your emotions. Can you try and focus for me?"

Brendon nods softly. "They are so many," he whispers.

"Breathe in," Spencer says. "Hold it in for a moment and try to find yourself."

Brendon takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. He's almost unnaturally still for a moment, but when he breathes out, it sounds much more even.

"How are you feeling?" Spencer tries not to move, not to disturb Brendon. It's important that Brendon focuses on himself and doesn't latch on to Spencer as a crutch.

"I'm ... content," Brendon says. "I spent the morning running errands with Bogart, and his antics made me laugh. I didn't send everyone around me into giggling fits, and I was very proud of myself. Then I waited for you to come home, and I was anxious because I was afraid of becoming sad. But right now I'm ... relaxed, I think. I'm not—not calm, exactly. I'm still a bit sad, but I'm not overwhelmed and I can still feel you and the people in the church and on the street and ... I think I'm good."

When Brendon opens his eyes, he's smiling. "That was good, wasn't it?"

"It was," Spencer says. He presses a quick kiss against Brendon's temple. "Let's go home."

It did indeed go very well. Spencer's relieved that their efforts were finally paying off. Brendon quickly learnt to handle all sorts of good emotions, although he still occasionally pulls people into his thrall. Well, some things just can't be helped, Spencer thinks. Brendon is a very charismatic person. Anger took a bit longer, but sadness is what they’ve spent nearly half a year on now.

So, of course, that's when they come across the funeral. Brendon reaches for Spencer's hand and clings tightly while they walk past quickly. A woman—the wife, Spencer thinks in a detached way—is sobbing loudly, held up by a younger man. The son, he thinks, but everything but Brendon moves fast away, as Brendon starts to shake and almost vibrate out of his skin.

Spencer's relieved when they finally reach the car. Brendon collapses on his seat. "Fuck," Brendon mumbles with a thick voice. "That—"

"—was a complication," Spencer says. "Don't beat yourself up. You did very well there."

Brendon leans his head against the window and is quiet while Spencer drives them home. As soon as Spencer's pulled into their driveway, Brendon's out of the car and heading into their house.

When Spencer finally catches up with him, Brendon's curled up on their couch, Bogart sniffing at Brendon's back.

"On your blanket," Spencer says and Bogart goes, but he's giving Spencer pleading looks. _I know how you feel, buddy_ , Spencer thinks. _I wish I could fix all of this with a snap of my fingers._

Brendon shifts, giving Spencer enough space to wrap himself around Brendon. "Hey, little spoon," Spencer says.

Brendon lets out a deep half-sob. "Do you think I'll ever be able to handle it?"

"Yes," Spencer says. "I believe it." He does, and it's what's kept him going through all those difficult times. "See how far you've come already."

"Sometimes it feels like I haven't made any progress at all," Brendon says. He turns around and hides his face against Spencer's neck. "I feel so stupid."

"You're not." Spencer kisses Brendon's cheek. "There are setbacks sometimes. You know how Anna never wanted to leave? Never be away from her support network?"

Brendon nods.

"And now she's going to go to college on the fucking East Coast. She didn't think she'd make it. Remember that time I had to go and pick her up from junior prom because she couldn't take it anymore?"

"I shouldn't still be such a mess," Brendon says softly. "I should be—I should be like Ryan, I should be able to have a normal job and not depend on you so much."

"Ryan's had me his entire life," Spencer says. "And he still depends on me to support him when he's feeling shitty."

Brendon's quiet for a moment. "You really think we'll get through this?"

Spencer doesn't know what this is, exactly. Maybe it's the inquiry or the training sessions. Or maybe it's life in its entirety, but Spencer suddenly feels a certainty he's been missing all day. "We will," he says.

He can feel Brendon smile. "Okay, if you say so," Brendon says. Spencer can feel him around the edges of his mind, blanketing him and throwing all his love at Spencer. It's an amazing feeling, warm and indulgent and above all—happy.

They can do this, Spencer thinks. He can survive this inquiry, and Brendon can keep trying, and that's all they need.


End file.
